


Night time love

by TeaHouseMoon



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Coming Untouched, Elio’s hips, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Smut, horny Elio, oliver’s Voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: Oliver and Elio making out.From the scene in the film right after Elio breaks down in tears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some Elio and Oliver love. This is just a little bit of smut, really...

Cicadas never stopped their symphony, Oliver thought. Even at night, even now, as he sat on the stone wall just outside the Perlmans’ villa, with Elio across from him,kissing him. Cicadas never quietened, and Oliver had started to love that familiar sound.

Elio’s lips were soft and warm, almost hot, as they kissed. Made out, for long minutes, and Oliver felt like a teenager once again.

He wondered, very briefly, what time it was. Then Elio’s tongue stroked his; Elio moaned softly into his mouth. And so Oliver forgot about everything else.

Elio was close but still too far for Oliver’s liking, and so he grabbed those narrow hips firmly with his hands and pulled him closer against himself, closer to his own pelvis, and held him there. He knew Elio would not be able to stay still. And as if on cue, the boy’s hips started moving, pushing back against Oliver’s own, hardness against hardness. Oliver’s fingers dug into Elio’s hipbones a little, encouraged him to grind.

Elio sighed into his mouth and kissed deeper. Oliver didn’t even have to reach towards him. He could simply lay back, comfortable against the stone column behind him, with Elio kissing him and thrusting, gently but insistently, against his crotch.

“Oliver,” Elio moaned, through his teeth a little, as his hips stuttered. He was so sensitive.

“Keep going,” Oliver said back.

Elio made a sound like a whine, like he was hurt. He felt so, so hard against Oliver. 

“Going to come?” Oliver was unashamed about his words. Nothing to be ashamed about. It was just desire.

Elio’s head dropped forward, his hips still thrusting a little, though it was obvious he was trying to slow down.

“Yeah. Ah. God.”

Oliver’s hands guided the boy’s lips back to his, to be devoured. Then trailed down, until they wrapped around Elio’s small hips again, and ground him against himself.

“Ah, no, fuck, Oliver,” said Elio, sounding delirious.

“Come on. Let it go.” Oliver loved it. He was hard himself, but Elio - he could not contain himself. Hold back. He was just so young and wired and responsive, and Oliver loved it. “Come. I want you to. Then we’ll go inside and, keep going.”

Oliver just wanted Elio to grind against him , and reach that beautiful, burning orgasm that his hips were frantically seeking. Oliver just wanted to watch him, as he chased his own pleasure against Oliver’s body.

“You’re beautiful, Elio. So beautiful. Just like that. Let it go. Listen to my voice. That’s it...”

Elio came with a whimper and a moan against Oliver’s mouth, back arching and thighs trembling, curls sweaty and matted, and then his head dropped again as he tried to catch his breathing.

“Oh, fuck.”

“So beautiful.” Oliver nudged Elio’s chin up with his fingers. Elio’s mouth was cherry red. “Look at you.”

Elio laughed shyly, and looked back down. His chest still moved fast.

“I’m all a mess.”

Oliver didn’t want to say, thought it would be better if he shielded Elio a little for now. Better if he got him used to the full extent of his desires bit by bit, gradually.But he thought, ‘I would take these tiny shorts off your hips right now, and lick you clean. Lick everything clean.’

Instead, he guided Elio’s mouth back to his for a deep kiss. With his hand, Oliver stroked down the boy’s abdomen, until he reached between his legs and squeezed. Just because he could.

Elio whimpered.

“Ah.”

“I want you.”

“Uh. I don’t know if I can walk, right now.”

“I’ll carry you, if you can’t walk.”

He didn’t carry him, not yet, but he pulled Elio tight against himself once again. He expected more whimpers, more protests; Elio’s come sticky in his pants.

But Elio just let him, and then attacked his mouth, kissing and kissing, tongue hot.

“Bed?” His voice was rough.

The bed was definitely the place to take this. Oliver agreed.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver actually ended up carrying Elio, for a little while at least, until they got to the front door, with Elio’s skinny legs wrapped around Oliver’s waist, his arms around Oliver’s neck, Elio’s face pushed into Oliver’s shoulder and biting there, softly.

After practically running upstairs - Annella and Samuel were probably in their bedroom already - Oliver closed the door, and walked Elio backwards towards the bed, kissing, kissing.

Elio whined petulantly when Oliver’s hands palmed his backside through his shorts. He scolded him, in a low growl.

“Oliver.”

“I’m here. I’m here.”

And Oliver was there, kneeling in front of Elio as he sat on the bed, his shorts now pulled down to his ankles.

Elio sobbed when Oliver’s hand stroked him, nude.

“Okay?”, Oliver asked. Elio nodded, frantically, on his mouth.

Oliver’s mouth kissed everywhere. Elio’s shins, his knees, his thighs. The skin on his hips, the soft hair down low on his abdomen. Then finally, their destination, and that made Elio writhe on the bed in over sensitivity.

“Oliver.” The only word Elio seemed able to remember.

Oliver climbed on top of him, on the bed, losing his own shorts in the process. Kissed up Elio’s chest until their mouths were on each other again, thirsty and impatient.

Oliver wanted to take Elio’s hand. Guide it between the boy’s legs, put his fingers inside him alongside Oliver’s own. Maybe one day; maybe one of those nights they were going to spend together. This was only their second time - go slow. He needed to go slow.

He took Elio’s hand and brought it to his mouth instead, kissed his fingers. Elio watched him, eyelids heavy, and then he moaned.

“Oliver...”

The lube melted in his hands with the day’s warmth still lingering in the room. Oliver was happy he brought condoms and supplies along with him when he travelled; not that he’d used any barrier the previous night, when he’d taken Elio’s virginity. He didn’t need to; he hadn’t wanted to. “I told you, I’m okay.”

So now he pushed two fingers inside of him, and Elio arched his back and breathed deep.

“Are you sore?”, Oliver whispered, not taking his eyes off of him, off of where his fingers touched Elio.

“No. Oliver...”

There were only so many times Oliver could listen to Elio begging for him. He didn’t leave his mouth, kissed and kissed as he wrapped him in his arms, held him; at the beginning, Oliver laid on top of him, Elio’s legs wrapped around his waist again and Elio’s hands grabbing his hair, frantic and desperate. Elio always had to touch him, somehow and in some way. Mess up the blonde strands in his fingers, uncaring that it would look wild, after.

The bed made noise, but they didn’t care. Oliver surely didn’t. Afterwards, perhaps; the morning after, when he woke up, Elio sleeping in his arms, he would wonder - did anyone hear? Did Samuel or Annella, did Mafalda, hear, figure out what happened? Would Mafalda go and check Elio’s room, would she realise that the boy she’d raised, like a son, Elio, her child, slept in Oliver’s bed now? Would she worry, and get angry at Oliver for stealing Elio’s innocence?

What innocence, Oliver thought. There wasn’t a sliver of it left, now in Elio, here sitting on Oliver’s lap as they made love. In the new position Elio straddled Oliver, just like the night before, except now he knew what to do, how to move. Now he knew how to chase his pleasure, where it would come from deep inside his body when Oliver moved and thrust just like that.

Elio was sweaty and gorgeous, like that. His hips moved tirelessly. Slow, mindful of not letting Oliver go. After a while, Oliver kissed his throat; then flipped them over, thrust inside him again, and didn’t stop until he found his release, all inside that perfect, beloved body underneath him.

The movement triggered Elio’s second orgasm, that night. ‘Beautiful’, Oliver could only muster to say. ‘So beautiful.’

Oliver intended to carry on, and make love to him until dawn.

And the cicadas never stopped their symphony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sad, and I really miss them a lot.


End file.
